


03:47 AM

by Josies



Series: No Saints Without Sinners [3]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Mentioned Boss/Dex, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Saints Row 1, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josies/pseuds/Josies
Summary: She bites the inside of her lower lip to keep herself from telling him to touch her,God knows how much I want you to, just waiting for him to make the move he's clearly wanted to make for months.





	03:47 AM

**Author's Note:**

> Finally I get to tag my two favorite things: slow burn and mutual pining lol. This fic sets near the end of the first game. I think it's a good time to mention I love BossGat to death. I have a lot to write about and it's the slowest of slow burns. Also, I really enjoy writing Boss and Johnny, cause they aren't exactly good people (which I don't get to explore often enough) and their morals are low, but loyalty seems to be the one thing they both put a high value on. Anyway, thanks to the guest who left me kudos yesterday, I edited this last night cause of you! ( ˘ ³˘)

 

* * *

**September 2006**

* * *

 

It's a regular Friday night in downtown Stilwater. The area's been free of the Vice Kings shade of yellow for months. Johnny and Doris are out "taking care of business", as in touring through shady bars and strip clubs, drinking and daring each other to do dumb shit, while waiting for the actual meeting Julius assigned them to take place. Usually they have other people tagging along, but tonight it's just the two of them. In other words, the chances of somebody else having to bail them both out of jail tomorrow morning are remarkably high.

Johnny chugs down the rest of his beer and signs for the bartender to get him another. He sits at the counter, watching Doris talking to a guy at a corner table on the other side of the bar. She's fluttering her long lashes at him, leaning in closer, touching his arm, and the poor bastard's already writing a check for her. Johnny thinks it's hilarious watching her scam people. It's incredible what she can do with a well-thought lie and a little cleavage showing. He figures she must have spent a better part of her life learning how to play people. Where he drops them with raw violence, she makes them fall at her feet with subtle touches and faked tears and whispered promises she has no intend of fulfilling.

Doris gets up and winks at Johnny and makes it look like she's heading to the restroom instead of bailing on the man who no doubt thinks he just got lucky. It's cruel, the way she leads people on with whatever pretty lie she comes up with and then disappears forever with their money. But to be fair, she usually picks out the people who do deserve it; the kind of pricks who yell at their dates and servers, or treat strippers bad, or expect others to stroke their ego by bragging about their wealth and power. They act like dicks and she finds the perfect way to fuck them up without violence and makes a profit out of it. There are times when they're just begging for a good beating, though, and that's when he steps in. They play well together. Johnny loves it.

He grabs his beer and follows her out of the bar. On their way to his car she shows him the check — for thirty-five hundred dollars — and stuffs it into her bra for safekeeping. He chuckles as he fumbles his car keys out of his pocket. She knows where to get checks cashed at night, but she tells him to take a turn the other way, even though it's a crucial part of her plan to acquire the money before her victim has a chance to get suspicious. He's noticed she doesn't cash the checks these days. What with her being favored by Julius and her brother doing well with his racing team in the States and around Europe, money has stopped being an issue, but she finds it hard to let go of her old ways. The checks only serve as trophies, now, or as reminders of what things used to be like. She doesn't want to forget.

They move on to the next bar to finally meet with an associate of Julius. Johnny plays with his lighter while Doris negotiates the terms. He thinks about how much things have changed during the year. A few months back this would've been out of the question, since neither Dex nor Julius would've trusted them with something as crucial as actually behaving in an important meeting unsupervised. She didn't even talk at the start, and lately he has trouble remembering what that was like. Now, whenever she gets on his nerves, he grumbles about how he misses the good old days when he still thought she was mute. He's never told the same lie so many times.

It's around three in the morning when they find their way into a topless bar. They pick a fight with some bikers, to spice things up a little, unaware of the fact that the bar's owned by that specific gang. Things escalate in record time. They run out of ammo pretty quick and Doris tells him to run as she sprints to the back door while laughing and smashing a half-full bottle of beer into a guy's face on her way out. And as much as it goes against Johnny's principles, not to mention his pride, to run from a fight, he quickly comes to the conclusion, that judging by the scenario, bouncing is the best course of action.

It's raining when Johnny rushes outside through the back door. The cops have already showed up, blocking their way to his car, which leads them to escape through back streets toward the nearest train station. There are none of their crew members around, which is typical, and hailing a cab in this type of situation isn't preferable. Sure, they could call for backup, but that always ends up with Julius instantly learning they caused yet another disaster, so that plan, too, is definitely a no go. Doris laughs the whole way to the station, making it really hard for Johnny to keep a straight face, _they're following your fuckin' laughter_ , but neither his shouting nor the bullets flying over their heads can make her shut up.

There's a flight of stairs between them and a train waiting for passengers to exit and enter, but Doris stumbles on the stairs, so Johnny scoops her up in one arm with little effort, and he sprints up to the platform, managing to haul both of them into the train through the closing doors just in time. One of the guys crashes against the train with his whole weight, beating the doors and yelling threats they can't hear, the others behind him emptying clips of bullets at the train with no success of piercing it, since an alarming number of city property has been bulletproofed. Johnny flips them off. The train leaves the station with a few minor scratches.

"Holy shit!" Doris still laughs as she's panting, trying hard to catch her breath. Her lungs burn and her feet are numb from pain. "I didn't think we'd make it with your damn knee, Robo-leg."

"Yo, give it a rest already," he sort-of snaps at her, but with the widest, drunken grin on his face. "My damn leg's fine. You just saw it yourself. Besides, you're the one who tripped on the fuckin' stairs. Shoulda just left you there."

"That name's gonna stick with you, no matter how much you bitch about it," she says, also grinning. Some months ago — while she was in a dressing room going through a pile clothes and the boys were a few feet away discussing their next move concerning the Vice Kings issue — she heard Dex referring to Johnny's injured leg with the words _whack ass robo-leg_. Since then she's been trying to turn it into an official nickname for him, but surprisingly nobody else seems to enjoy playing with their life as much as she does. She kinda likes it better that way, though. It forms up the cutest frown on his face she's ever seen.

Johnny grunts. He wipes water drops off his glasses with his sleeve. The car's empty, save for a bum fast asleep on one of the seats at the other end. "What I don't get is how the hell does anyone run with high heels. I ain't never seen a girl run that fast. I thought you're gonna break your ankles."

"I'm just that fuckin' good, Johnny."

"And cocky as hell. Just as a girl like you should be."

She blinks at his words, _is he flirting right now_ , just then taking notice of how close he is. The doors on the other side of the cart stopped the leap they took to make it inside and she was left catching her breath between them and Johnny. He never moved to give her space. She looks up at him deliberately slow. Their eyes lock. He's still almost a head taller than her, even when she's wearing a pair of heels of respectable length. Their hair and clothes are soaked, and still her makeup appears to be so perfectly intact that Johnny's convinced she's got it tattooed on her face. He wants to get it smudged, as if that would make her any less attractive. His eyes drill too deep into hers and she has to break the contact. She never gives up on staring contests, there's way too much pride in her to lose something she could win so easy, but heat builds up inside her every second he doesn't move away, and it creeps up to her cheeks. She knows she should say something, anything, yet she can't get a word out, can't really even curse herself for freezing like this. The fact that she did a few lines before the fight at the last bar broke out doesn't help, either. She's trashed.

Johnny watches her dodging his gaze and he knows she's holding out on something from him. Despite his anti-social tendencies, he's good at reading people when he wants to be, always has been. Doris is a particularly difficult individual to read, but when her lips part slightly with a small, inaudible sigh pushing past them, he becomes perfectly aware of what she desires that moment. He knows because he's thinking about it, too. Not the first time that happens. Probably won't be the last time, either. Aisha would kill him if she knew, but she can't expect him to control his thoughts. It's impossible. Controlling his actions is a whole different thing. Right now he doesn't want to behave, doesn't care. Maybe it's the twelve beers he chugged down talking, maybe it isn't. Maybe he's really into the girl standing flustered between him and the train doors. Maybe he's just an asshole.

No, he's definitely an asshole. That's been proven to be true countless of times. He's also very much drunk. No man can down twelve beers like it's nothing. The truth is, if they were both single, he'd go for the girl. Hell, he almost did, started flirting right away when she came to see him for the first time after she got canonized. Her face was priceless hearing his _eight inch cock comment_ , and all that. He still hasn't forgotten the subtle, yet so damn alluring grin she gave him that day. He wants to ask her what she expected him to read off that grin.

Her breathing steadies, but her heart keeps racing in her chest. She bites the inside of her lower lip to keep herself from telling him to touch her, _God knows how much I want you to_ , just waiting for him to make the move he's clearly wanted to make for months. Neither of them notice the train slowing down as it approaches another station, even though they should be keeping an eye out for trouble. In that moment everything else seems irrelevant. Unreal. She's high. He's drunk. Wanting to kiss him is wrong, of course she knows that. But that's exactly what makes it so good. There's something about him that fuels her reckless behavior, something cold and raw and absolutely fucking terrifying, something she was told not to look for in another person. That one day somebody like that will come to her, without looking or asking, and then she'll have to run, or she'll get herself torn into pieces. She gets that warning now, only not the way she's supposed to. It's almost desperate how much she wants him to show her why she should have taken that warning seriously.

Johnny leans in even closer to her, slightly pushing her body against the doors with his own. He slides his hand behind her to place it between her shoulder blades, unaware of the shivers that jolt down her spine with enough force to make her already aching legs go weak and nearly give in under her. His hot breath burns her skin and her mouth fills with a metallic taste for biting down on her own lip so hard. He lets his hand slide down to the small of her back. He's so close to her he can smell the fragrance of her lipstick. He's far too drunk to recognize the berry in question, but wondering if her lips will taste the same makes them even more irresistible. He brings his free hand up to cup her chin, lifting her head and running his thumb right under her lower lip, and just when he's about to close in the distance between them, Doris' phone starts ringing in the pocket of her jacket.

The train materializes back into existence around them. She lets out the shaky breath she unconsciously held in and she closes her eyes and turns her head slightly to the side. Johnny's nose bumps into her cheek. The hot air she blew on his lips lingers there for only a second. He chuckles quietly and turns his head the other way. His hands leave her body.

Doris fights the urge to smash her phone into pieces and grab Johnny's face and kiss him. She uses up all of her willpower to stop herself, which is terribly low whenever she's high to begin with, so really, she should get some kind of reward for her effort. In her humble opinion, being declared an actual saint by God himself would suffice.

She sticks her hand into her pocket, pulls her phone out and checks the name blinking on the tiny front screen. It's Troy, meaning she has to take it. She marks the moment as the first time she's ever wanted to strangle the man. Then she inhales through her nose before she flips the phone open and brings it up to her ear.

"Yo."

_"Sorry for calling this late. Or early. You out?"_

"Yeah. 'Sup?"

_"Julius wants you at the church."_

"Right now?"

_"Yep."_

"'Aight. Be there in fifteen."

Doris hangs up, running her fingers over the buttons a few times before flipping the phone shut. She'd rather go home to take a hot shower, but everyone in the crew knows that when Julius wants you at the church, you better haul your ass there faster than light. The man values precision to the point of irritation. Considering it's nearly four in the morning, it has to be something urgent, which means he's going to send her out with one of his lieutenants to handle whatever it is that needs handling. She kind of hopes it's not Johnny.

What almost just happened between them, whatever that was, it was way too close. She can't do that shit. Not to herself. Not to Dex. She doesn't wanna fuck things up between them. She's never dated anyone who's been so good to her and treated her with the respect Dex does. She already feels uncomfortable knowing he'll be at the church, considering she had to talk him out of a jealous pang just a few days ago, after he couldn't ignore the rumors going around about her and Johnny anymore. She's too high to feel actual guilt, but she fakes it for the sake of her attempts at being a decent human being.

When she finally trusts herself enough to glance at Johnny without immediately attempting to stick her tongue down his throat, she notices he's not cornering her any longer. Instead, he's moved to face the doors on the other side, tapping away at his own phone. Probably typing a message.

"Julius wants you at the church, too?" He asks without looking her way. The guy sounds so damn casual, like they weren't just about to turn months worth of weirdly charged tension between them into a steamy, immoral scene, like in the tacky adult movies they sometimes watch at Peep This, less than five minutes ago. Her brow furrows. She mimics his question behind him inaudibly in a mocking manner.

_Asshole._

"Yeah."

"Can't be anythin' that couldn't wait till mornin', or noon. You know what, make that afternoon. I can't believe Julius' still givin' us shit over that guy we had to take hostage. It's not like we _meant_ to drop him off the roof, right?"

Doris doesn't reply. No matter how hard she tries, she can't justify feeling annoyed by the way he acts as if nothing happened. In fact, nothing did happen. Nothing should happen between them. Nothing _can_ happen. Still, it's kind of comforting for her to be mad at him — it's what she's been doing throughout the months they've known each other. When something goes wrong, she blames it on Johnny. Run out of gas? Blame it on Johnny. Get grazed by a bullet? Blame it on Johnny. Drop food on your clothes? Chip a nail? Shitty weather? Blame it all on Johnny.

Of course, Johnny's never too happy about it, since he's often nowhere near her, yet he somehow still gets blamed for whatever happens. They fight so much over it even Julius has snapped at them a few times, told them they better start acting more their age, and then given up when he's realized it's no use. Most of the time he feels like a kindergarten teacher instead of the leader of the biggest crew in the city.

The train lets out a screeching sound as the speed starts to decelerate. A female voice announces the next stop is theirs. Doris straightens out her clothes, only managing to make the wet and cold fabrics stick to her skin, and takes a step to stand behind Johnny. She stares at his back while they wait for the doors to open. She gives one final thought to how Johnny should just pull her skirt up, stick it in, power fuck her into oblivion and be done with it. Turns out he's just not that much of an asshole. Neither of them are.

Wishing her morals were incredibly low on that area, too, she steps out of the train after him, and onto the empty platform of Saints Row Station. The rain has stopped. Her heart still beats like mad in her chest. She needs to do some serious sobering up during those five long minutes it'll take them to reach the church. She stops to buy an energy drink from a vending machine, insisting to her still very high self that it's a great idea, instead of, well, a fucking bad one.

They walk to the church in silence through the calm streets. Doris dodges the puddles the shower of rain left behind, spilling her drink everywhere. Johnny chain-smokes three cigarettes. They never talk about that night again.

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
